


A Game of Pirates: The Curse of the Black Pearl

by clairebeare123



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Aerys isn't mad, Alternate Universe, Cersei's not here for reasons, Dany is Elizabeth, Davos and Gendry are Pintel and Ragetti, F/M, Game of Thrones/Pirates of the Caribbean crossover, Jack Sparrow is Jack Sparrow, Jon is Will, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaegar is Dany's half-brother, Viserys is a jerk like usual, basically just got characters in the potc world, definitely more capable than governor swann though, definitely more got elements though, definitely not sorry though, mostly follows curse of the black pearl plot, not set in westeros, sorry - Freeform, the starks are in england but they exist, there was never anything between cersei and jaime, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25734895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairebeare123/pseuds/clairebeare123
Summary: On the crossing from England, a boy is pulled from the water wearing a cursed medallion. 8 years later, the governor's daughter  Daenerys Targaryen unknowingly unleashes the medallion's magic, bringing something sinister to Port Royal. Pirates. When Daenerys is kidnapped, Jon Snow, the very same boy whose medallion she stole, must conspire with known pirate Captain Jack Sparrow to rescue her.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 17
Kudos: 45





	1. I. 8 Years Before

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is my first fic and I'm super excited to be sharing it! This idea has been swimming around in my head for awhile and quarantine has finally inspired me to sit down and write. Let me know what you think!

Rhaegar lay on the bottom of the ocean, his bootstraps still strapped to the cannon at his feet. The moonlight didn’t penetrate this deep, but the sharks and the bottom feeders had long since lost interest in him. He supposed he just didn’t smell alive. Very well. They weren’t wrong.  
He couldn’t feel the pressure of millions of pounds of water on his chest, but he knew it was there because he could not move. He couldn’t feel the seawater in his lungs, but he knew it was there because it weighed him down. Perhaps, if there was still air in his lungs, he would have floated, wouldn’t be stuck here on the ocean floor, the water crushing him to not death. But there was the cannon strapped to his bootstraps to consider.

  
He didn’t mind it. Almost. He supposed there were worse forms of eternal punishment than laying careless on the bottom of the ocean. If never lifting the curse meant that he stayed down here forever, then so be it. He had meant what he said. They all deserved to be cursed. Him included. He supposed Jack would have found the afterlife by now, whatever it was. Certainly it wasn’t grit and sea snow beneath you and crushing water above. Or perhaps Jack was serving his own punishment in the Locker. Rhaegar wouldn’t trade him that.

  
Perhaps the Locker was worse than Rhaegar’s fate, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, he had no desire to find out. He had long since come to terms with his fate. It may be an eternity of nothingness but at least he still had his brain and his sanity to keep him company. It wasn’t quite so bleak when he had thoughts of Lyanna and his son to dwell on for eternity.

  
And so there Rhaegar was, thinking of how content he was with his bleak fate when he first saw it. A ship sailing beneath the waves. Rhaegar would’ve sat up in shock if he could. It was merely a hallucination, of course. Perhaps even a shipwreck sinking to rest on the ocean floor with him. But it wasn’t, oh god, it wasn’t.  
Strange hands, certainly not human hands, hauled Rhaegar up out of his eternal resting place and onto the deck of the ship. Uneven footsteps clanked across the deck of the Flying Dutchman, and Rhaegar felt the words before they even left the captain’s mouth.

  
“Do you fear death?”

***

_My Dearest L.S.,_

_I am sorry I cannot give you this message in person. What I wouldn’t give to see you again…_  
_I’ve enclosed a medallion for Jon. Aztec gold. The source of the curse I told you about. They will need the medallion back to break the curse._  
_You have to take Jon and make the crossing to the colonies. They’ve led a mutiny against Jack. It’s only a matter of time before they realize what I’ve done. And when they do they’ll come for you. They know you’re in England. I don’t care where you go. Perhaps it’s better if you don’t tell me. That way they can’t torture it out of me._  
_Make sure Jon gets the medallion. It’s his. By blood. Help him protect it. It may very well be the only thing between them and everything they want._  
_You have to leave England, my love. I know you’ll miss Ned, but it very well could be Jon’s life on the line. Baratheon will come for you. I fear for my own life -- existence, rather._  
_Be safe, Lyanna. Protect Jon and keep yourself safe. If things do not turn out the way I fear they will, I will find you. Be safe, L. Give Jon my love._

_All my love,_  
_R.S._

Lyanna read the letter again. And again. The paper had been worn soft, she had reread it so many times. And, surely, she would read it countless more during the rest of their journey to the colonies.

  
She sat on the bunk in their small cabin beside her sleeping son. She folded the letter back up and placed it back in its place in the breast pocket of her apron, nestled against her heart. She looked to her son, pushing his dark curls off his forehead. He didn’t stir, so she delicately wrapped a finger around the golden chain around his neck, pulling the medallion out from underneath his shirt where it lay against his heart. She held the medallion in her hand, inspecting it for possibly the millionth time. She did not like it. At all. Rhaegar was never specific about the curse, but she was thankful that whatever it was, it did not extend to her son.

  
The candlelight glinted off the gold of the aztec coin, and a sudden sharp breeze blew through their cabin, extinguishing their candle and chilling Lyanna to the bone. She dropped the medallion immediately, and it fell back against her son’s chest. He woke with a start.

  
“Mother, what is it?” he sat up suddenly, the whites of his eyes stark against the darkness of their cabin.

  
“I-” she started. She didn’t know. The air - it was wrong. Wrong, eerie, somehow. Lyanna stood suddenly. “You stay here and- and do not move.” Her son was so shocked, he could hardly consider disobeying her order.

  
Lyanna merely gathered her skirts in her hand and raced from the cabin. No alarm had been raised when she emerged onto the deck. But it was still the night crew. It was almost time to switch to the day crew. Of course they weren’t paying attention. So Lyanna leaned over the rail and looked as far as she could see in either direction. The moonlight was gone. All she had was the first tint of sunrise to illuminate the seas. She raced to the other side of the ship and continued her perusal, but-

  
Her heart leapt to her throat. No, it couldn’t be. But it was. There was no mistaking the tattered black sails belonging to the ship that was now gaining on them. The _Black Pearl_ had found them. Lyanna spun around. No one was paying attention. None of the sailors had even noticed their impending doom.

  
Lyanna raced up the stairs to the poop deck, not caring if it was her place or not. “Sir, look!” she shouted to the officer at the wheel, pointing at the pirate ship off the starboard side, creeping ever closer.

  
“Mind yourself, woman!” The sailor shouted, stepping towards Lyanna and raising an arm as if to hit her, but Lyanna was already thundering back down the stairs. She glanced back once to see that, thankfully, the officer had raised a spyglass to look in the direction of the Pearl, but she did not linger to watch him discover it. She was practically back to the cabin by the time she heard the alarm being raised.

  
“Mother! What’s going on?” She ran into Jon just outside their cabin.

  
“I told you to stay,” she snapped at her son, but there was no venom behind it. She grabbed his arm and drug him back in the cabin. She grabbed his shoulders with an iron grip and turned him to face her. He was so tall. Almost as tall as she was now. He searched her eyes while she tried to memorize her son’s face.

  
“Mother, what’s happening?” he asked again, terror in his eyes. She considered taking the medallion from him. Instead she grabbed his shirt, pulling it closed, and buttoned it all the way to the collar. She turned to their trunk, rifling through it until she found one of his vests, shoving it into his hands and ordering him to put it on. She grabbed his coat as well and pulled it around his shoulders, helping him into it. She buttoned it up quickly, since her hands worked faster than his. The more layers between the medallion and the pirates, the safer he would be, she believed. She hoped.

  
“Mother, what-” he started again, but she cut him off.

  
“Pirates,” she said, pulling her boy into a crushing embrace. Baratheon had seen her, knew what she looked like. But he had never seen Jon. As far as she knew, Rhaegar had never even told them if their child was a boy or girl. Jon was safe from Baratheon as long as… As long as she wasn’t with him. She drew back from her son, cupping his cheeks and staring into those beautiful grey eyes, so much like her own. “Jon, you have to escape. The first chance you get to run, to hide, to get out, you must take it. Do not come for me. We will be safer if we are separated. Do _not_ come for me. Do you understand?”

  
He nodded, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

  
“Jon, do you understand?” she asked again, voice slightly raised, shaking her son’s shoulders gently.

  
“Yes,” he said, his voice breaking. “But-”

  
“It will be alright,” she said, smoothing her son’s curls back from his forehead and pressing a kiss there. “I will- I will come find you when it’s over.” Jon nodded, and this time he was the one to pull his mother into an embrace. When he let her go, Lyanna looked at her son’s beautiful face for the last time. “I love you,” she said, and left the room to make her final stand.

***

“No,” Rhaegar answered simply. “I welcome death, but seeing as I cannot die-”

  
“No?” Davy Jones almost shouted. He had not the patience to listen to Rhaegar’s _reasonings_. “Would you prefer I strap you back to your cannon and leave you where I found you, then?”

  
“No, of course not,” Rhaegar responded. “I would join your crew and serve my years. I just do not fear death, is all.”

  
Jones narrowed his eyes, but spit, “Welcome to the _Flying Dutchman_ , Mister Snow.”

***

“Yo ho, yo ho,” Daenerys sang softly. “A pirate’s life for me.” She was twelve years old and already as beautiful as the legends of Old Valyria. Of course, none of those legends were true. She was English through and through. Perhaps a touch Gaelic, but that was not to be spoken of, after all. “Drink up me hearties, yo, ho!” Daenerys gasped suddenly when a hand landed on her shoulder.

  
“Quiet, missy!” the owner of the hand spoke. “Cursed pirates sail these waters. You want to call ‘em down on us?”

  
Daenerys simply stared. Meeting pirates surely couldn’t be as bad as he made it sound. It would be adventurous, surely.

  
“Mr. Gibbs,” the lieutenant said, sparing Daenerys from having to respond. “That will do.”

  
“She was singing about pirates,” Gibbs tried to argue. “Bad luck to sing about pirates, with us mired in this unnatural fog - mark my words.”

  
“Consider them marked,” the lieutenant said simply. “On your way.”

  
“Aye, Lieutenant,” Gibbs said, before grumbling, “Bad luck to have a woman on board too. Even a miniature one.” Daenerys watched him go back to swabbing the deck, and did not miss it when he took a swig from a hidden flask.

  
She turned to the lieutenant instead. “I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate.”

  
“Think again, Miss Targaryen,” he responded. “Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag, or wears a pirate brand, gets what he deserves: a short drop and a sudden stop.”

  
Daenerys didn’t understand the phrase, but Gibbs made a rather helpful gesture - of a man being hanged - behind the lieutenant’s back. Daenerys gasped in spite of herself.

  
“Captain Lannister,” Aerys Targaryen joined the conversation, his son trotting along behind him. “I appreciate your fervor, but I am concerned about the effect this subject will have on my daughter.”

  
“My apologies, Governor,” Jaime Lannister responded, and opened his mouth as if to continue, but Daenerys decided it was her turn to speak.

  
“Actually I find it all quite fascinating.”

  
“And that’s what concerns me,” Aerys muttered, but it was Viserys who spoke at full volume.

  
“Dany, why can’t you ever just act like a proper lady?”

  
She opened her mouth to respond, _I would if you’d treat me like one_ , but their father spoke before she could.

  
“Children,” he said, Viserys rolling his eyes. He wasn’t a _child_. “We will be landing in Port Royal soon, and beginning our new lives. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could comport ourselves as befits our class and station?”

  
“Yes, father,” they both murmured, but the tone of Viserys’s voice left Aerys rather inclined to drag the boy away and bestow him with more words of advice. So he did, Viserys dragging his feet the whole way.

  
Finally alone, Daenerys turned back to the sea. “I still think it would be exciting to meet a pirate,” she muttered to herself before something floating in the water caught her attention. It was a parasol, left opened and floating through the waves as if it were a boat itself. She followed the parasol for a moment before debris began to float by. Then she saw _him_.

  
“Look!” she shouted, pointing out into the water. “A boy! There’s a boy in the water!”

  
It was silent for a heartbeat before Lannister must’ve seen the boy and shouted, “Man overboard!” It spurred the men to action, and Daenerys was pushed back as they crowded the rail and hauled the boy onto the deck. Daenerys pushed her way through the men to get a closer look at the boy just in time to hear Lannister say, “He’s still breathing.”

  
“Where did he come from?” Viserys almost sneered, looking down his nose at the water-logged boy. Their father opened his mouth to, no doubt, snap at Viserys, but their attention was drawn elsewhere.

  
“Mary mother of God,” Gibbs said from the rail as the wreckage came into view. Everyone congregated at the rail as they watched the remains of the ruined ship burn. There was complete silence. Daenerys’s jaw hung open limply. When she turned back to glance at the boy, her father ushered her away from the rail, removing the wreck from her view.

  
“What happened here?” Aerys asked, a hand on Daenerys’s shoulder, keeping her from looking back toward the shipwreck.

  
“An explosion in the powder magazine,” Lannister said, his voice full of certainty Daenerys knew he couldn’t possibly have. “Merchant vessels run heavily armed.”

  
Viserys rolled his eyes as if in silent agreement with Daenerys. Unfortunately, he did not stay silent. “There’s no proof of that,” he snapped.

  
At both Lannister’s and her father’s looks at her brother, Daenerys stepped in. To defend him, she supposed. “It could have just been an accident,” she said.

  
Aerys silenced his children and addressed Lannister. “Captain, these people were under my protection. If there is even the slightest chance one of those poor devils is still alive, we mustn’t abandon them.”

  
Lannister nodded. “Of course not,” he said and began to shout orders. Daenerys was watching the boy again, but did not miss it when Lannister murmured to her father, “Hope for the best...prepare for the worst.”

  
Then Aerys was pulling Daenerys away again as a couple of the sailors picked up the boy to move him elsewhere. “Daenerys,” her father said, “I want you to accompany the boy. He's in your charge now. You'll watch over him?”

  
“Yes,” she said, nodding, and followed the sailors to where they laid the boy. She knelt down beside him. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than her. He looked so peaceful, as if he were simply sleeping. If she hadn’t seen the shipwreck herself, she never would’ve guessed where he’d come from. She reached forward and brushed his dark curls out of his face, but the action startled him awake and he grabbed her wrist, gasping.

  
“It’s alright. You’re safe now,” she said, watching calm come over his eyes. She took his hand to hold it more comfortingly. “My name is Daenerys Targaryen.”

  
“Jon Snow,” he managed.

  
“I’m watching over you, Jon,” she said. He squeezed her hand tight before falling back into unconsciousness. It was then that she noticed a golden chain peeking out from underneath his shirt. She knew she should leave it be, but her curiosity got the better of her and she pulled the chain free. It was a gold coin, but when she flipped it over, the other side was adorned with a garish skull. She gasped and whispered, “You’re a pirate.”

  
She heard footsteps behind her and quickly hid the medallion in her skirts. Jon Snow was in her care, and she would not be allowing him to be hanged for piracy.

  
“Has he said anything?” Lannister asked, and she stood up quickly and spun around to face him, keeping the medallion hidden.

  
“His name is Jon Snow,” she said. “That’s all I found out.”

  
Lannister nodded and a couple sailors came forward to carry Jon Snow below deck. “Very good,” Lannister said.

  
Alone once again, Daenerys made her way to the stern to examine the medallion. She turned it over and over in her hands, the sunlight glinting off the golden skull. A sudden gust of wind threatened to blow the medallion from her hands, and she looked up to see another ship, mostly concealed by the fog.

  
Only this ship...This ship was flying black sails. And as she examined the ship, her eyes found the most damning evidence - the skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger. She looked from the skull on the flag to the skull on the medallion in her hands. It was true.

  
Pirates.

  
However, before she could gather her thoughts and raise the alarm, the pirate ship simply disappeared into the fog.


	2. II. The Ceremony and the Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our three main characters are introduced officially, Daenerys attends Commodore Lannister's promotion ceremony, Jon delivers a sword and gets to see Dany, and Jack arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all sorry it's been like years, this semester has been kicking my ass, but it's break now so i should be able to get more chapters out and faster. Hopefully. Anyway, thanks so much for the response to the last chapter! it's really heart-warming to get a response like that on my first fic, so thank u lovelies. Anyways, enjoy this chapter!

II. The Ceremony and the Proposal

Daenerys’s eyes snap open. Instinctively, she is out of the bed and halfway across the room, throwing open a dresser drawer and removing its contents. She pulls loose the false bottom, and there it is. The medallion. 

She does nothing but stare at it a moment. She hadn’t dreamt about the medallion or the pirate ship in years. Perhaps the dream is telling her she should return the medallion to Jon? But, no, she couldn’t. Not now, after all these years. She picks up the medallion and puts it on before standing in front of her mirror. She gathers her silver hair into her hand, pulling it away from her neck, to better see the medallion where it lays just atop her breasts. The candlelight is still dim, casting shadows across her face and reflecting off the gold of the medallion. 

A loud knock at her door interrupts her reverie. She shoves the medallion under her night shift and begins throwing her drawer back together.

“Daenerys? Is everything alright?” Aerys Targaryen calls from the other side of the door. Surely, he heard her slamming her drawer closed.

“Yes,” she says, just as he continues, “Are you decent?”

She lunges for her dressing gown, pulling it on as quickly as she could. “Yes,” she says again, and the door opens. Her father enters the room carrying a large box, her maid Doreah behind him.

“Still abed at this hour?” Aerys chastises. “It’s a beautiful day!” Doreah pulls open the curtains, the bright daylight spilling into the room. Daenerys covers her eyes instinctively against the light before her father continues, “I have a gift for you.”

She takes a step towards him, opening her mouth to speak, but he opens the box, revealing a gorgeous velvet dress. “It’s beautiful,” she says, eagerly pulling the dress out of the box. “May I inquire as to the occasion?”

“Is an occasion necessary for a father to dote on his daughter?”

Daenerys grins cheekily. “Then, surely, you got Viserys a new dress as well.”

Aerys laughs and ushers his daughter behind her dressing screen, Doreah following her. “No, Viserys did not get a new dress,” her father answers. “Although, I did think you could wear it to the ceremony today.”

“Ceremony?”

“Captain Lannister’s promotion ceremony.”

Daenerys peeks her head out from behind the screen and fixes her gaze on her father. “I knew it,” she says, but Doreah grabs her wrist and pulls her back to resume dressing.

“Rather, Commodore Lannister,” her father continues as if she’d said nothing. “He’s a fine gentleman, don’t you think?” He pauses as if waiting for an answer; however, Daenerys is quite unable to answer at the moment. “He fancies you, you know.” 

Daenerys simply gasps as Doreah pulls the laces to her brand new corset as tight as she possibly could, forcing all the air from her lungs. Why did the dress have to come with a new corset - that Daenerys was almost certain was not made to her measurements? Why couldn’t she just wear her normal pair of stays that she knew actually fit her?

At her continued lack of an answer, Aerys asks, “Daenerys? How is it coming?”

“Difficult,” she answers, then adds, “...to say.” Surely this corset couldn’t go any tighter. She is immediately proven wrong as Doreah cinches it ever tighter. 

“I’m told that dress is the very latest fashion in London.”

“Women in London,” Daenerys winces as Doreah finishes tying the corset, “must’ve learned to not breathe.” She takes an experimental breath and winces again.

“Governor?” the butler calls from the doorway before Aerys can respond to his daughter. “A caller is here for you.”

***

Jon paces absentmindedly in the foyer of the Targaryen mansion, a sword case tucked under his arm. He is out of place here and he knows it. But she is here, and if he even gets a glimpse of her, all of the awkwardness will be well worth it. 

Jon stops pacing to admire the metalwork on one of the wall sconces by the door, to distract himself, he supposes. Surely, he isn’t truly interested in the decorative candelabras. His talent lies in weapon-making. 

He reaches up to touch the candelabra, his fingers running along the intricate ridges and grooves. It was of a fair enough quality, the metalwork was sound; however, the decoration must take away from the practicality somehow-

He is immediately proven correct as the candelabra comes loose in his hand with a sickeningly loud noise. For a moment, Jon can only stand there in shock holding the broken piece of the sconce. Then there are distant footsteps- come to investigate the noise? Jon panics, but drops the broken piece into the large vase by the door, and just in time, too.

“Ah, Mr. Snow,” Governor Targaryen says as he comes down the stairs. “It’s good to see you again.”

Jon forces a smile onto his face, clearing his thoughts of all but business, not daring to think about the broken sconce. “Good day, sir,” he says, coming forward and opening the case for the governor. “I have your order.” Governor Targaryen lifts the sword from the case and unsheaths it. As he admires the blade, Jon continues, “The blade is folded steel. That’s gold filigree laid into the handle.” He pauses. “If I may-”

The governor hands him the sword, watching him curiously. Jon knows it will only make him nervous if he tries to puzzle out what the governor is thinking, so he simply continues, balancing the sword on a finger. “Perfectly balanced,” he says. “The tang is nearly the full width of the blade.” Jon hesitates. The governor is a difficult man to read; it is always an interesting game with him. Should he simply hand the sword back to the governor, or...does he dare?

He does, flipping the sword gracefully and presenting it to the governor hilt first. Aerys Targaryen does not even flinch, only accepting the sword from Jon and saying, “Impressive. Very Impressive.” As he sheathes the sword and returns it to the case, he continues, “Commodore Lannister will be very pleased with this. Do pass my compliments on to your master.”

Jon fights to keep from frowning.  _ Of course,  _ he can’t help but think. No one would believe the work was his anyway. “I shall,” he says. “A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated-” Jon is interrupted by a familiar whine from behind him.

“Did Yoren finally send over the sword?” Viserys Targaryen sneers.

Jon opens his mouth to answer, to apologize-

“He did,” Governor Targaryen says to his son, then meets Jon’s eyes as he continues, “and it is very fine work.” There is a strange glint in the governor’s eyes, intrigued and all-knowing. Jon can’t help but frown in confusion. It is a game, indeed.

“Look who’s finally decided to make an appearance,” Viserys mutters and they all turn to see a young woman so beautiful, she could only be a queen.

“Daenerys, you look stunning!” the governor says, but Daenerys’s attention is not on her father as she rushes down the stairs.

“Jon! It’s so good to see you,” she says, fingering a necklace she has tucked into her gown. “I dreamt about you last night.”

Jon is shocked speechless. The governor saves him from having to reply, however. “Daenerys, this is hardly appropriate.”

She ignores him, continuing, “About the day we met. Do you remember?”

“I could never forget it, Miss Targayen,” Jon replies softly.

“Jon,” she says, stepping forward and reaching as if to grab his hands, but seems to decide against it, her arms returning to her sides. “How many times must I ask you to call me ‘Daenerys’?”

Jon doesn’t want to think about how soft her hands would be if she had grabbed his; that would be hardly appropriate. “At least once more, Miss Targaryen,” he says. “As always.”

Jon can almost hear Viserys roll his eyes, but, thankfully, the governor speaks before Viserys can. “At least someone understands propriety. Now, we must be going.” Governor Targaryen takes the sword case and leads the way out the door. 

Viserys dutifully offers his arm to his sister, and she takes it before looking back at Jon. “Good day, Mr. Snow.”

“Come on,” Viserys mutters, pulling her out the door.

Jon follows behind them. “Good day,” he says, and as they are settled in the carriage, he whispers, “Daenerys.”

Jon almost swears she turns back to look at him, almost as if she had heard him, but surely it is only a figment of his imagination.

  
  


***

Captain Jack Sparrow of the  _ Black Pearl,  _ Pirate Lord of the Caribbean stands high in the rigging of his ship, watching the land in front of him creep closer. As he enters the harbor, a garish display catches his attention. The rock formation to his left has been fashioned into a gallows where three skeletons hang above the water in various stages of decay. They are pirates, that much is unmistakable, from the rags that used to be clothes that still cling to their remains, to their poor crooked, chipped, gapped teeth, and the most obvious giveaway would be the sign that hangs alongside them.  _ Pirates, ye be warned. _

Jack removes his hat and holds it to his heart in salute. He should heed the warning, yes, but... He leaps from the rigging as if to change his course, but the deck is only a few feet beneath and much smaller than expected, his weight threatening to capsize the  _ Pearl- _

Right. Yes. This is not the  _ Pearl.  _ The  _ Pearl  _ is gone. Long gone. This is a dinghy. A sinking dinghy. Jack only allows himself a moment to collect his bearings and grimace before grabbing his bucket to bail water out of his sad dinghy. He has no choice but to continue into the harbor. Two large ships are docked in the harbor. One is grand and enormous, daunting even; the other, smaller and sleeker. Both are impressive, no doubt members of the Royal Navy.

Once more, he finds himself standing upon the dinghy’s mast as he approaches the dock. Conveniently, he is already at an equal level with the dock. He takes a single step from his dinghy to the dock and strides forward, his sunken dinghy coming to rest on the bottom of the harbor behind him.

“What- hey!” the harbormaster splutters as Jack strides past him. “Hold up there, you!” Jack stops reluctantly and turns to face the man. “It’s a shilling to tie up your boat at the dock.” Jack looks back at his sunken dinghy and the harbormaster follows his gaze. Only the top of the mast is still above water; he’d be tying up his boat, for sure. “And I shall need to know your name.”

Jack considers for a moment, glancing at the open ledger in the other man’s arms. Jack drops a few coins onto the open book. “What d’ye say to three shillings? And we forget the name?”

It is silent for a moment as the harbormaster simply stares at him. Then he slams the ledger shut on the coins and says, “Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. Smith.” Jack grins as the harbormaster steps aside and goes about his business. Jack continues forward but is stopped by the sight of the harbormaster’s abandoned coin purse. The jingle of the coins within is delectable as Jack pockets it. Leave it to a pirate to make a profit off docking a dinghy.

Now, to see about those ships he had seen on his way in.

***

It feels as if Daenerys’s head is spinning. It is  _ so  _ hot and she can hardly breathe. Her new corset is going to be the death of her, she can already tell. She fans herself aggressively.  _ Anything  _ for a little relief.

“Would you hold still?” Viserys snaps from beside her. She fights the urge to kick him in the shin, instead trying to pay attention to the ceremony. Lannister draws his new sword with a flourish, the sun glinting off the beautiful blade. 

She can hardly pay attention. She’s nearly losing it again, her heart nearly beating out of her chest, she’s  _ so  _ dizzy. She fans herself again.

“Daenerys,  _ stop that. _ ” Viserys whispers harshly, and Daenerys finally snaps, raising her arm to whack Viserys with her fan.

“Miss Targaryen,” comes a voice from her other side, interrupting her before she can hit her brother like he so deserves. The voice belongs to Tyrion Lannister, the brother of the new commodore, an aide to her father, and a man she considers to be her friend. “Might I see your fan?”

Daenerys hesitates, reluctant to give up her only form of relief, but hands it to him. To her delight, Tyrion reaches around her to whack Viserys in the back with her fan. She laughs to the best of her ability with her chest so tightly constricted. Viserys just looks  _ so  _ scandalized, though he does nothing for fear of starting a scene. Tyrion discreetly returns her fan and she thanks him quietly. This time when Daenerys fans herself, Viserys does nothing but frown.

And then the ceremony is over as everyone begins to applaud. Daenerys tries to follow suit, but the movement is too much and she gasps. Discreetly, she does her best to adjust her corset through the material of her dress to no avail, then returns to applauding with less vigour. Thankfully, now Daenerys only has to make it through the reception before she can get this cursed thing off.

***

Jack is on his way to the dock where the smaller, much prettier ship is docked when two men scramble out from where they were sitting in the shade to block his path.

“This dock is off limits to civilians,” says the shorter of the two. The other, slightly taller with curly hair, nods as if to emphasize the other’s point.

“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know,” Jack says. “If I see one, I shall inform you immediately.” He tries to go around them, but they shuffle over to continue blocking his path. Changing tactics, Jack gestures vaguely behind him. “Apparently there’s some sort of high-toned and fancy to-do up at the fort, eh? How could it be that two upstanding gentlemen such as yourselves didn’t merit an invitation?”

“Someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians,” the first sentry says.

“Must be some important boat, then,” Jack says.

“Ship,” the second sentry corrects.

“Ship,” Jack amends, then continues, “Well, it's a fine goal to be sure,” he says, discreetly trying to go around them again, but once more they shuffle over to stay in front of him, “but it seems to me that a ship like that,” he points toward the much larger ship docked on the other side of the harbor, “makes this one here a bit superfluous, really.”

“Oh, _ the Dauntless _ is the power in these waters, true enough,” the sentry says, “but there’s no ship as can match  _ the Interceptor _ for speed.”

_ Oh, perfect.  _ “I’ve heard of one,” Jack says. “Supposed to be very fast, nigh uncatchable.  _ The Black Pearl. _ ”

The second sentry scoffs. “Well, there’s no  _ real  _ ship as can match  _ the Interceptor. _ ”

The first sentry turns to face the second. “But, Loras,  _ the Black Pearl  _ is a real ship.”

“No,” Loras says, scoffing again. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” the first sentry insists. “I’ve seen it.”

“You, Renly?” Loras says. “You’ve seen it?”

“Yes,” Renly responds, certain.

“You haven’t seen it.”

With the two sentries entirely engrossed in their argument, Jack slips away.

“Yes, I have.”

“You’ve seen a ship with black sails, that’s crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that Hell itself spat him back out?” Loras asks.

“Well,” Renly says, “no.”

“No,” Loras agrees.

“But I have seen a ship with black sails.”

“Oh,” Loras says, “and no ship that’s not crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that Hell itself spat him back out could possibly have black sails, and therefore couldn’t possibly be any ship other than  _ the Black Pearl.  _ Is that what you’re saying?”

Renly nods, then, “No.”

Loras nods. “Like I said, there’s no real ship as can match the Interceptor.” They turn back to Jack, only he’s long gone.

“Hey!” Renly shouts, having spotted Jack aboard  _ the Interceptor,  _ casually examining the wheel. “Get away from there!” he shouts as both sentries hurry towards the ship.

“You don’t have permission to be aboard there!” Loras adds.

“Sorry,” Jack says, lifting his hands in apology. “It’s just such a pretty boat. Ship.”

Both sentries eye him suspiciously. “What’s your name, then?” Renly asks.

“Smith,” Jack replies smoothly. “Or Smithy, if you like.”

“Well, then, what’s your business in Port Royal,  _ Mr. Smith _ ? ” Loras asks.

“Yeah,” Renly adds, “and no lies!”

“Very well, then,” Jack says, “I confess it is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, and raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out.”

The two sentries stare dumbly at him. “I said no lies,” Renly says.

Loras turns to him. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“He’s not telling the truth,” Renly replies, certain.

“He may be,” Loras says.

“If he were telling the truth, he wouldn’t have told us,” Renly says.

“Unless, of course, he knew you wouldn’t believe the truth even if he told it to you,” Jack adds for them to consider.

The two sentries just look at each other in bewilderment.

***

Daenerys sits on the steps of the fort, fanning herself weakly. Sitting is considerably better, she has learned. God forbid she has to stand up again. “It’s just so god-damned hot,” she says.

“You’d best watch your language, Miss Targaryen, before someone hears you,” Tyrion says from his spot standing beside her. At least sitting puts her at eye level with him so it doesn’t look quite so uncursory than if she were just sitting alone.

“I am feeling quite poorly, Mr. Lannister,” she says simply, looking up at him desperately, her face pale, beads of sweat collecting at her hairline.

Tyrion does not get a chance to respond before the new commodore approaches. “Miss Targaryen, may I have a moment?” he asks, offering a hand to her. She nods and takes his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. He leads her away from the party and to the parapet overlooking the ocean. Daenerys begins to fan herself desperately again. Standing only made the lack of air so much worse.

“You look lovely, Daenerys,” Commodore Lannister says. Daenerys smiles half-heartedly and fans herself. The commodore takes a deep breath before continuing, “I, ah, apologize if I seem forward, but I must speak my mind.” He hesitates a moment, and Daenerys struggles to comprehend what he was saying, finding it difficult enough just to keep her feet underneath her. “This promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved: a marriage to a fine woman.” He couldn’t possibly mean…? “You have become a fine woman, Daenerys.”  _ Oh no _ …

“I can’t breathe,” is all she can manage.

“Yes, I’m a bit nervous myself,” he says. He doesn’t understand! How could he not understand? But it is too late. The lack of oxygen catches up to her and she falls.


End file.
